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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451801">Awake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCatToulouse/pseuds/TheCatToulouse'>TheCatToulouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Mason is figuring things out, Morning After, Oh my god so much Fluff, Pre-Relationship, References to Sex, Relationship progress, Sleepy Cuddles, This is so soft, cause Mason, i guess?, it's just taking him awhile, scenerio, the morning after</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:41:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCatToulouse/pseuds/TheCatToulouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The detective wakes up before Mason can leave.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ugh, this man has me whipped.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It gets harder to leave. It gets to the point where forcing himself away from her is like walking out of a warm cabin and into a snowstorm. It’s unnerving, feels like someone is scraping at his chest with an awl each time he climbs out of her bed and gets dressed. Every time he has stopped and lingered by the door, every time he has looked back at her and watched her sleep. </p><p>It’s unsettling. </p><p>Even more unsettling, though, is the idea of breaking a routine he’s had for decades. He has never purposefully woken up with someone. He’s never waited for his partner to wake and kissed them goodbye. Hell, with most partners he’d be gone as soon as they were done. He’s hardly bothered to stay the night, not when he still has the energy to roll out of the bed and walk through the door. The sheets are always too itchy, their body too warm, and the smell of them invasive and unfamiliar. Why stay when he can get up and find some solitude? In his wake he has left nothing but the fading remnants of pleasure and a cloud of smoke. </p><p>When it comes to her, he stays the night. The few times they’ve wound up in his bed, he’s allowed her to sleep next to him, but he’s gone by the time she wakes. Maybe it has something to do with the pleasant warmth of her skin next to his, or the way that she numbs his senses overall. Sex has always been fun, a brief reprieve from his heightened senses. Now, though, her presence in itself is a reprieve. When they’re done, he’s content. The world blurs around the edges, everything is softer and lighter. Next to her, his burden eases. </p><p>There is nothing but her. </p><p>Nonetheless, he still leaves by the time the first rays of dawn light up the sky. Despite how easy it is to be with her, there is something just as easy about falling back into old habits. It’s comforting. Helps him navigate through their relationship, uncomplicated as it may be. It keeps the relationship itself from becoming too complicated. He can manage it.  </p><p>As he pulls away from her and gently slips out of her grasp, he resists the urge to groan. Her apartment is unbearably drafty at times, and this morning is particularly brisk. It has him shivering from his place at the edge of the bed, and he does everything he can to resist the urge to turn around and press himself against the warmth of her body. Another unsettling development – he has the urge to be close to her even outside of sex. He’s caught himself lingering, pressing kisses to where her neck meets her shoulder and holding her close while they bask in post-orgasm euphoria. He’s developed an inexplicable habit of pulling her onto his lap as well, and he’s caught himself doing so without the desire to go any further. He likes the closeness, and it’s completely maddening. </p><p>He redirects his desire away from her and towards his clothes. The quicker he finds them and pulls them on, the quicker he can relish in their familiarity and bask in the mild warmth they’ll bring him. With a small groan, he pushes himself off of the bed and scans the floor, locating the pile at the end of the bed with ease. He bends down and snatches up his pants to pull them on. Just as he begins zipping up the fly, he pauses. </p><p>He hears it – her heart beating just the slightest bit faster. Just fast enough to tell him that she’s awake. He looks over his shoulder at the bed and sure enough her eyes are open. </p><p>The sky is a hazy pink, the first rays of sun begin to shine through the window. It illuminates her face just the slightest bit. With her hair sprawled on the pillow and her lips still swollen from the night before, she looks almost ethereal in a messy, unkempt way. </p><p>She blinks blearily at him, and – without realizing it – he’s taken three steps closer to the bed. </p><p>“You’re up early, sweetheart.” </p><p>She’s never brought up the fact that by morning he’s gone. She’s never been particularly bothered by it, at least to his knowledge. Yet there’s still a nagging worry in his mind that she’ll be upset if she actually sees him leave. </p><p>“You’re noisy.” She teases, her voice hoarse from sleep and – to his satisfaction – the noise she was making the night before. </p><p>His lips slip into a smirk. “We both know that’s not true. I’m a vampire, remember?” </p><p>She hums in acknowledgement and pushes herself up so that she can lean on her elbows. His eyes follow the line of the sheet as it slips down her collar bone and rests tantalizingly against her chest. It takes everything in him not to lean down and pull it back completely. </p><p>“You’re leaving?” She asks. There’s something there in her voice, something akin to disappointment that sets him on edge.  </p><p>He frowns. </p><p>“Yeah, some of us have shit to do.” His tone is mildly joking, mostly dismissive. </p><p>He turns on his heel to get his shirt, but his mind is buzzing. Something squeezes in his chest, something scary and wholly unfamiliar. Something that he’s sure Nate would have a field day analyzing if he ever told him about it. He hears the gentle shuffle of sheets as she sits up completely. </p><p>He grabs his shirt off the ground, hesitates to pull it on for just a second before he does so. It scratches against his skin in a way that has him prickling and on edge. He can feel her eyes on him as he finishes dressing. He only turns to her once he laces his boots, and when he does he’s met with the sight of her unabashedly staring. </p><p>Her legs are pulled to her chest and she rests her chin against the tops of her knees. Her face is neutral, but her gaze is penetrating and almost fond.  </p><p>He feels compelled to say something, fill the silence in a way that hasn’t ever been necessary before. </p><p>“You should try and get some more sleep.”</p><p>“Ok,” she says. She releases him from her gaze and stretches; she must be doing it on purpose. The sheet slips down to her waist. In the pale morning light, she’s glowing. She looks like art that should be on display in one of those museums Nate forces them to on occasion. </p><p>He turns away. It would be an easy excuse – climbing back into bed with the sole intention of ravishing her until she can’t walk. Sex is a default, comfortable and easy. So why didn’t it feel right?</p><p>She lays down, pulling the sheet up to cover herself once again and he forces himself to walk towards the door. </p><p>If she asks him to stay, he will. He’ll slip back into the comfort of her bed and he’ll stay with her. It’s mildly embarrassing to realize, and he’s sure Felix would make fun of him for the next century if he told him. He moves purposefully slow. Still, soon he’s at the door of her apartment, a hallway away from her, and then he can’t move at all. Frozen, waiting.</p><p>“Mason?” She says his name quietly. So quietly that had he not had heightened senses, he probably wouldn’t hear her at all. Without even realizing it, he breathes a breath of relief. “Do you want to stay?” </p><p>His relief disintegrates upon hearing her question. His shoulders are tense, his grip on the door knob almost tight enough to leave dents. He’d stay, if she told him to, he would. But she wasn’t telling him, she was asking him a simple question with an answer so complex he couldn’t begin to work it out. He can feel it, the ramifications of whatever decision he can make weighing heavily on his shoulders. It feels complicated. He feels complicated. For the first time in a while, he feels uncertain about what he was actually feeling. </p><p>He knows what he wants, though. That is obvious, easy. Uncomplicated. He isn't one to dwell, and despite how confused he feels internally, he lets his desires guide him. </p><p>He takes off his shirt then his pants then his boots. He lets his fingers graze momentarily over the crystal that hangs from his neck, and he turns around. He doesn’t hesitate as he gets under the covers, doesn’t waste a moment before his hands are around her waist and he’s pulling her against him. He buries his face against her neck and nuzzles her, lips skimming over the skin there. He presses a single, lazy kiss against the pale scar. </p><p>She laughs, the sound subdued and sleepy as she leans against him and any doubt he had about his choice dissipates. She rolls around to face him, pressing their chests together. He basks in her, so consumed in her very presence that he doesn’t do anything but stare down at her. </p><p>“I don’t want you to stay because you think you have to,” she whispers into the silence. </p><p>“I want to, sweetheart.” </p><p>And he does. He can’t remember a time when he’s ever wanted anything so bad. He can’t remember when he’s every longed to be pressed up against someone in a way that wasn’t sexual. </p><p>He has never stayed, and there’s a possibility that he may never stay again, but he’s here now and it’s all that matters. </p><p>He presses a kiss to her forehead before pressing one to each cheek. He kisses both corners of her mouth and feels her lips curve up underneath his.<br/>
When he kisses her lips, he wonders why he had ever left in the first place.</p>
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